Out on a Limb
by Purtail
Summary: If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.
1. Chapter 1

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary: **If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Don't hate me 'cause Electric Sheep or Sharp and Sheer haven't been updated. D: I've been busy with personal issues, and spat this thing out in a night. It might be continued, if I get the time and inspiration. Anyway - please try to review if you can! Reviews keep me going!

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**Out on a Limb**

Closing her bright brown eyes briefly, the girl tried to focus on spreading the walker's insides over herself and Sarah, making sure to cover every last bit of live human beings with the stench of death. The teen was trembling as Clementine smoothed the blood over her, complaining in a hushed voice at how disgusting the act was. This whole situation just brought back painful memories of Lee, anyway; Sarah acting exactly like Clementine did when they escaped the Stranger's house was not helping anything. It took everything she had to swallow the lump building in her throat; she needed to be _strong_. For him.

"Shh, you need to be quiet, Sarah," she murmured, wiping her hands on her pants once she was finished. "I promise, this will keep you safe." This ritual had worked before - like a charm, even - and this was a promise Clementine intended to keep. Sarah was her friend, and no one else in their group was getting left behind.

Carlos was nearby, repeating the same words to his daughter as reassuringly as he could. Clementine gave a nod to him, entrusting him to know what to do to keep Sarah safe as they prepared to walk through the hoard.

"We ain't got all day here. Everybody ready?" Kenny asked, checking the group for anyone who was still smearing guts over themselves. Thankfully, it looked like they all had done their job; they looked like a group of dirty hobos, but they would survive. Clementine's gaze flashed into Kenny's, and she nodded to him, as well. He returned the notion and added, "They're almost on us."

And before anyone could respond further, a new voice sounded from behind them. "What the actual fuck is going on here?!" Clementine stiffened at Troy's loud hiss. She still felt the wound on her cheek from when he had smacked her for attempting to defend Kenny. As far as she was concerned, Troy was a horrible man, and he would ruin everything if he got too loud in this situation.

He babbled on more, demanding what their 'sick shit' was, his rifle pointed to the group. Luke reached for his own weapon, but Troy caught him in the act and threatened to shoot him if he moved. Clementine bit her lip, gaze trailing over her friends. It was do or die.

[Yell to Kenny] **[Distract Troy]** [Run]

"No! Stop!" Without thinking, the child rushed at Troy, attempting to redirect the rifle. Once her hands clamped around the weapon and pointed it towards the sky, a shot rang out, the heat radiating from it burning her ear.

"What the fuck is your problem, you little-!?" he squawked in surprise, cut off as Clementine let go. She backed up and watched as the color drained from his face. Her eyes followed his to the walker hoard, her own heart sinking in her chest.

_Shit…_

"Clem! You okay?" Luke cried, sending a swift punch to Troy's mouth. Dazed, the man staggered, only to charge forward into the walkers with his gun firing freely a minute later. The girl watched him disappear into the mess of walking rotten flesh, wondering how long he could survive without reeking of death. She nodded to Luke, turning back to see the rest of the group beginning to slowly walk into the hoard.

"We need to go," she whispered, receiving a nod in response. It became evident that the lurker hoard had become agitated by Troy's shot, and that if they didn't move now, they wouldn't make it. Nick joined his friend moments later, and Clementine found Sarah, trying to murmur words of encouragement to her naive companion.

Jane, their mysterious new ally, was softly giving instructions to the group. "Don't make any noise," she advised, tracking her eyes about the crowd, "And for fuck's sake, _walk_. Act like you belong and you will belong."

Clementine remembered Lee mentioning something like that - by acting like a walker and smelling like one, the things couldn't tell the difference. It wasn't a perfect method of safety, but it was all they had. She couldn't possibly trust Jane fully yet, but from her own experience, this seemed to be a great way to escape, and their only option to boot.

Tavia and the others were shooting from the rooftop, yelling out demands for more ammo and asking where Carver was. Clementine fought back the urge to cover her head; she didn't want to risk being spotted by the walkers, but being shot by Carver's followers wasn't a pleasant thought, either. She tried not to think about it, and focused on where she was going, and how much further there was to walk. The others' quiet words of encouragement did help some, as well.

She kept as quiet as she could, taking cautious but full steps and keeping an eye on Sarah in front of her. Carlos was leading the girls, his facial expression spelling out more worry and fear than ever before. However, it was understandable - Sarah was not doing well. She was shaking again, and her breath was quickening, preluding to the panic she felt when things went to shit. Her father encouraged Clementine to say something, and just as she was constructing whatever words she could to make Sarah's anxiety calm down even a little, a bullet went through Carlos's neck.

He fell instantly, getting gnawed on by walkers in the process. Clementine watched, suddenly reminded of those she'd lost to walker bites in the past - Shawn, Doug, Duck, Pete, and Lee,_ oh God Lee…_!

_No! This isn't the time!_

She wrenched those thoughts out of her head; what was she thinking?! This was _not_ the time to dwell on the past, and Sarah needed her help _now_. The girl was screaming her heart out, alerting walkers to her status as their prey. Her nails dug into the sides of her head as her despair poured out all at once, and Clementine feared she would sink to her knees at any moment.

The monsters around them were closing in, being picked off by Bonnie and Sarita as best they could manage.

"Run, Sarah!" Clementine cried without thinking, watching the teen sprint off into the hoard blindly. She attempted to follow, but walkers blocked her path. Raising the cleaver, Clementine drove the blade into one's head with a strong strike and managed to snake out of one's grasp before it could claw at her. Her weapon drove into two more monsters' skulls before hearing a low scream nearby.

As she ran towards the noise, time seemed to come to a halt. Clementine's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the man struggling with a lone walker, his gun clicking uselessly as he attempted to fire bullets that were not there. The creature's teeth were sunken deep into his wrist as he tried to wrench himself from its grasp. The girl slowed down as she raised her weapon, unsure what to do and knowing she didn't have much time to think it through.

This was _Troy_ - this was the man who stood by and watched Kenny get beaten, who would have smacked Sarah and smacked Clementine herself without mercy. He treated the group like shit, asserting his authority as Carver's right-hand man by parading himself around the prison like a slavedriver.

Clementine was fully aware of how horrible he was, and she almost set the cleaver down and turned around to go find Sarah, to aid someone who actually _deserved_ her help. But she saw Troy's fearful gaze, noticed the way his eyes pleaded with hers silently as he tried to escape and knew he was as good as dead. Something about that look bothered her, but she couldn't place her finger on why. Just for a split second, she wondered what Lee would have done in this situation - would he have saved an enemy, or at least spared him from being eaten alive?

He'd taken mercy on those men back on the dairy farm, hadn't he? He'd known she was watching, knew it was a tough decision to make but did it ultimately for her sake. It wasn't something she understood then, but in this moment in time, it connected with her all-too-quickly. She had to do this, if only to not become a monster like Troy, or Carver.

Carver claimed she was just like him, that she had the same look in her eyes. Well, she'd prove him wrong right here and now - her eyes would not see the death of this man - her enemy - so long as she could help it.

Her weapon raised above her head, she made the decision that would prove her actions different than William Carver's.

**[Hack Off Troy's Arm]** [Cleave Walker's Skull]

The blade sliced into Troy's flesh sloppily with a squishing sound, and he stared over at the child, wide-eyed and in disbelief at the sudden pain surely coursing through his body. Clementine didn't say a word as she released her weapon, giving one last glance around her before plunging the cleaver through his arm, hacking the limb off and surrendering it to the walker.

Troy clutched his upper arm, his eyes bugging out at Clementine and back to his dismembered limb a few times before he let out a bloodcurdling scream. She didn't blame him; it looked… well, horrible (not that that was unexpected), a mess of blood, meat, and bone exposed to the world. Clementine winced at the wound, noticing chunks of his flesh dripping from it before she had to tear her gaze away, to meet Troy's eyes.

Again, not unexpectedly, he was absolutely horrified, expression showing a form of raw terror and agony that Clementine had seen before - more times than she should have. For a moment, after seeing his eyes blink quickly and his body wobble a little, she feared he would faint right there on the spot. If that were the case, then chopping his arm off would have been pointless, for he'd be as good as dead. She still held up her arms, as if she could somehow catch him and drag him to safety. That delusion, thankfully, wasn't put to the test, as he seemed to gain at least some sense and gave her a shaky nod.

A walker approached the two of them; Clementine raised her weapon and sliced it into its skull, watching it fall to the ground. As quickly as she could manage, she cut a small crevice out of the corpse, retracting some of its guts to smear around Troy's torso. She felt oddly in charge of him now; grabbing his remaining arm, she hissed a low, "Get behind me," and kept her steady pace through the hoard. She had only managed to hit a few before they overwhelmed the two of them; before all hope was lost, however, bullets flew into the skulls of the approaching walkers. Whether those were from the rifles of friends or foes, Clementine didn't know, nor did she particularly care.

"C'mon!" she yelled to Troy, watching him stumble silently behind her. It wasn't much further, and finally, towards the outer edge of the mass, Clementine spotted Sarah. The girl was curled up on the ground, Bonnie nearby shooting any beasts that got too close. Clementine yelled out their names, knowing not keeping quiet wasn't going to hinder the situation further.

The redhead turned to see Clementine approaching, shooting two more lurkers that were behind them. "Troy? Y-you made it through...?" she asked, almost bewildered at the survival of her 'co-worker'.

Before the injured man could respond, Kenny's strong voice rang out above the walkers' hungry growls. He shot a few monsters before backing up into Bonnie, turning around and nearly blowing her head off in the process.

"Whoa, whoa! Chill the fuck out, Kenny!" Nick hissed, appearing with Luke and Rebecca mere seconds later. Mike and Jane trailed behind, both with cold expressions on their faces once they spotted Troy.

"Sorry, sorry - still havin' trouble shooting with one eye," the older man replied, shaking his head and lowering his weapon. The lot of them were just outside the hoard, which seemed to be focusing on Tavia's group atop the rooftop (and the blaring announcements regarding Howe's Hardware's newest sale on barbeque equipment).

"It's fine, I'm not hurt," Bonnie insisted, turning her gaze to Troy. "But… he is."

Kenny's eyes widened once he noticed the man, his lips curling into a snarl as he sauntered forward and grabbed Troy's collar, yanking him closer. "You - you son-of-a-bitch! How fuckin' _dare_ you show your face around here-"

Troy's eyes widened as he tried to squirm out of Kenny's grasp, blabbering out, "W-whoa, h-hey, man, I- I don't want-"

Sarita placed a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder before he could do anything drastic. "Kenny, please calm down. The man is missing an arm!"

"I don't care if he's got one, two, or ten arms, Sarita! If he's a danger to the group, he's gotta go!"

Clementine stepped forward, her voice as clear and confident as she could manage - and as mature as she could seem for an eleven-year-old. "I cut off his arm," she declared, eyes narrowing at Troy. Her light brown gaze shot to Kenny, giving him the same fierce look. "He was bitten. I did it so he could survive." There had been no choice - she was taught it was all about survival, after all (with a side dish of compassion).

Without warning, Troy started to babble on further: "Y-yeah, yeah, that's- that's right, she did. Fuck, man, I- I don't know wh- why that happened but it fucking _did_ and - and shit man fucking _shit…_I..." His words, of course, didn't make much sense, and it was obvious he'd lost a lot of blood already. Before anyone could respond to that mess of slurred words, Troy's legs gave out, making him collapse to the ground like dead weight.

Clementine didn't jump, but her gaze softened a bit as Sarita bent down to check the man's pulse. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he's only passed out for now. Can we get to a safe place?" she asked.

Everyone looked at one another, and Rebecca was the first to notice that someone was missing. "Wait a minute… Where's Carlos?" she asked, not realizing Sarah was nearby, a shaking and sobbing mess. It only took a glance at the broken girl to understand immediately what had happened.

Clementine bit her lip, approaching her friend cautiously. "Sarah…?" she murmured, bending down to the other girl's level on the ground. "Sarah, we need to move," she insisted, holding out onto her hands. "Come on."

Sarah seemed to drain of life, her eyes empty and her mouth hung open still in the aftermath of shock. She merely nodded weakly, bloodshot eyes avoiding Clementine's gaze and standing up, fixing her sights on the ground again.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Rebecca whispered sympathetically, but no one moved.

"Alright," Kenny began, pointing with his gun towards a building dead ahead of them. "That's our next stop 'til we can find that civil war museum." Leaving no room for arguments, he added, "C'mon, y'all. Nick, grab the asshole." The man nodded towards Troy, unconscious and bleeding out onto the ground.

"I thought _I_ was the asshole," Nick quipped sarcastically, quirking a brow at Kenny.

"Well, looks like your position's been taken."

Nick merely rolled his eyes and bent down to lift Troy, receiving a groan of pain from the injured man in response. "Shit, sorry…" he murmured apologetically.

"Here," Luke chimed in, taking some of Troy's weight to make him as comfortable as possible as he was supported between the two of them. Luke flashed a smile at Clementine before beginning to walk forward with Nick.

The girl smiled back, pleased with how her group was handling her decision. It really made her feel mature; she had decided to save a life, to not be like Carver and let someone weak die. Of course, there was still the problem of whether she'd severed Troy's arm quick enough, but given Reggie's experience, it didn't seem like it would be a big threat. After all, the amputation was nearly instantly after the bite.

From what Clementine could tell from her position, Kenny's pointed destination seemed like more pieces of a strip mall, broken into several stores like Carver's camp had been. "Let's move," the one-eyed man said, leading everyone towards the building. "Our first stop will be the strip's pharmacy."

Oh, the irony. But Clementine didn't think about the last time she had been in a pharmacy as she went along with her friends (and that one man whom she saved - he _wasn't_ her friend); instead, she focused on holding onto Sarah's hand, giving comforting squeezes every-so-often. There was only so much she could do, though; loss was inevitable in a world like this, even when you give your all to fight and save as many lives as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary:** If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Whoa-ho, hey! This got another chapter! That surprised me, haha. This fanfic is less of a 'Troy whump' thing now and it's more or less me wanting to flesh out Clementine's thoughts and feelings regarding compassion and things like that. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing my favorite characters in pain, but it's become more than that now, I think.

Let's hope for another chapter, eh? Please review if you can.

Oh! Also, one more thing: I've tried to make this chapter (and possibly those in the future) have the same feel the video game had. Namely, walking around, finding things, talking to people, different dialogue, etc. Just because I wanted it to feel like it could fit in the game. Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Walking Dead Game.

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Clementine let out a sigh, examining the group of survivors around her that were all moving about their own paces. They were all crowded in the pharmacy of the strip mall, the broken front glass boarded up to protect from the walkers hungrily walking outside. It didn't have many supplies left (apart from greeting cards, and there was no need for those anymore, was there?), but luckily it had _something_, which was better than nothing at all, in retrospect.

Once they had reached the place, everyone seemed to break off into teams: Nick and Luke, after setting Troy gently down on a table, joined Mike in sealing the front of the place to keep the rest of the group safe; Sarah curled up behind a counter, sobbing softly to herself; Rebecca sat down with Kenny; Jane cleared the area of any stray walkers and made sure others weren't hiding in any crevices; and Sarita was currently measuring the damage done on Troy. Clementine wasn't sure whom she wanted to join, but right now, she figured the injured man was her responsibility.

Cautiously, she walked up to Sarita, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Do you… need any help?" she asked, her eyes looking down to the unconscious form on the table. Troy looked terrible; he was a few shades paler, sweat trickling down his face, and the blood around his sleeve where his limb had been detached didn't seem to be clotting any time soon. The girl grimaced at the sight, wondering what he'd have to say when he woke up.

_If_ he woke up.

Sarita turned around and noticed Clementine, giving as warm a smile as she could manage. "Thank you, Clementine. Do you mind looking for any medical supplies? I don't know how much is left in a place like this, but… well, anything would help. I'm going to make a tourniquet, too… If you could find a belt or something similar, we can slow down the bleeding."

Clementine nodded. "Alright. Do you think he'll… make it…?" she was hesitant to ask, knowing that sometimes people did not make it in these sorts of situations, but she couldn't help but be curious. Curious, that is, if her split-second decision had been for nothing or not.

With a shake of her head, the woman responded, "I'm not sure yet. I'm going to do all I can. Oh, and can you check on Kenny for me, please?"

"Of course." Anytime was a good time to talk with Kenny, after all; Clementine smiled and turned around to find the one-eyed man. She hadn't gotten to talk to him much about what had happened with Carver, and now would be as good a time as any to discuss things, she supposed.

Unfortunately, she realized, that would have to wait; she had to take care of Troy first, and get what Sarita had asked for. She gave a nod to Kenny, as if to say, 'We'll talk later,' and once the man gave a warm smile in return, she glanced over the layout of the pharmacy.

It was divided by aisles with varying themes of products in each one, just like any other pharmacy. There were also the counters, which had items below (mostly rotting candy, though). In the back was the actual pharmaceutical section, where prescription drugs used to be sold. Clementine remembered going there when she was very little - around six, she'd guess. She had gone with her mother when her father had gotten a sinus infection and required an antibiotic. Her mother had gotten her McDonald's on the way back home, which contained a Happy Meal toy that was some doll from the most popular girly franchise at the time.

Those memories seemed so crisp in her mind, but failed to actually pop up unless prompted by the image of something she'd touched or somewhere she'd been in the past. Like how the garage-like door at Carver's camp yard reminded her of the jewelry store that Lee had died in. It was all so strange how memories from before the apocalypse were strung so closely to the ones from after in her mind. Maybe it was because she was young, but Clementine remembered the day Duck died as clearly as she did her fifth birthday party. The meat locker incident with Larry was as vivid and fresh a memory as her first day of school.

She didn't even know why she dwelled on the past so much; Lee had told her to keep moving, that she was strong and was smarter than any walker. She was, of course, but it didn't make her any less scared of what was happening, and her heart longed for days where she felt safe - safe with Lee.

Shaking her head, she had to remind herself that that was no longer her life. She could never go back to the Motor Inn, or revive those that she had lost. It just didn't work like that - it never did and it never will. _This_ was her life for now. Surviving together with these people, and fighting the undead that walked the streets.

She'd just have to get used to this.

"Hey, Clem? You in there?" A familiar, Southern-accented voice sounded from beside her.

_Shit! _How long had she been staring off into space, thinking about stuff that didn't matter now? She blinked a few times and looked up to see Luke's friendly face smiling down at her. Clementine willed herself to smile back, but it was weaker than she'd have liked. So much had happened in the past few hours, and it was still difficult to be strong, even now.

"Yeah, sorry," she apologized, giving him a nod. "I just… spaced out, I guess."

"Hey, no problem, Clem. How're you holdin' up, anyway? Are y'alright? Do you… need anything?" Luke bent down to meet her gaze, a brow quirked in question to her. She regarded him as an older brother-like figure, much like Ben had once been (though Luke was more capable, admittedly).

"I'm okay," she replied, her smile warming up to be more genuine and less forced. He seemed to notice, for his own eyes became gentler.

Standing back up, he continued, "Well, good. That's what I like to hear. If you need anything, though, don't hesitate to ask, okay?"

Clementine nodded again. "Sarita asked me to find some medical supplies for Troy. Want to help me?" she asked, her gaze drifting to the front of the store. The shards of glass from the window had been removed, and a thick layer of wood had been boarded in its place. "It looks like you're done with that," she added quickly.

Not surprisingly, Luke nodded. "Sure, we can check in the back, where Jane's patrolling. Let's head on back, then." Clementine figured he'd be willing to help, even despite his bad blood with Troy. He was just that kind of guy - like Lee had been.

The two of them made their way to the back of the stores, stepping over the debris that had crumbled down from the ceiling and aisles. Jane, one of the newest additions to their group, was bent down in the back of the store, tearing through a few boxes and stuffing things into her pockets.

"What're you doing?" Luke asked, prompting her to turn around as though she were caught in some act. But once she noticed Luke, her frown curled into a challenging smirk, clearly showing she didn't see him as a threat.

"What do you think? I'm looking for stuff," she replied curtly, rolling her eyes.

"What, uh, kind of _stuff_?" Luke asked, crossing his arms.

Jane stood back up, snapping, "Whatever I can find, genius. Why? You looking for something in particular?"

Clementine nodded. "Sarita asked for medical supplies for Troy - anything you can find would probably be helpful."

The woman scoffed, cocking her head to the side a bit. "_Troy_, huh? Still dunno why you saved him in the first place, kid. When I saw him standing there with his stumpy arm, I had half a mind to shoot the guy's dick off. He's a regular piece of shit, nothing redeemable in him."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Well, that may be, but I trust Clem's decision. I'm glad you helped us get out of Carver's camp, but I'd appreciate it if you respected Clementine, as well."

It seemed, to Clementine, that more and more adults were treating her like one of them and not some little kid. There was a world of difference between herself and Sarah, that much was obvious, and it made her more than a little pleased to be respected as mature. Though she wasn't quite where she wanted to be in terms of her place in the group, she couldn't help but be proud of her accomplishments. She was still young, and she knew that having adults trust her to be sensible said a lot about her.

Once more, she thought about how much she owed Lee for teaching her to be strong and mature.

Jane broke her out of her thoughts with her sharp reply, "I do trust the kid. She's smarter than the other girl you got with you - and most of your idiot crew. The rest of you had better find some sense of survival, and fast, or you won't make it another day." Her brown eyes brightened as she looked down at Clementine in slight admiration and determination.

Giving a smirk of her own, the child responded, "Thanks, I guess, but we all pull our weight." She hoped, anyway. Truthfully, she was grateful that they were letting her do what she thought was best, and not ordering her around like a baby. On the subject of Troy, she added, "What happened was a split decision, but I decided to spare him all the same. It's just what good people do."

"'Good people'. Right. But hey, don't come crying to me when he wakes up and starts treating you all like shit," Jane hissed in reply, shaking her head.

"I don't doubt it. What was he like, after you arrived? We were long gone by then." Luke asked curiously.

Jane shrugged. "What's there to say? He was on the inside, I was on the outside. We talked a few times, made some deals for supplies and shit. I think he definitely wanted to get somewhere with me, though. Which he would not have done under any circumstances." She seemed to forget that Clementine was there, but once she remembered she was in the presence of a kid, she didn't seem to care, either. "Getting caught with my pants down in an apocalypse? What, did he think I was an _idiot_?"

Luke cleared his throat, giving a side glance to Clementine next to him, and replied, "Regardless… even if he is a piece of shit, it was Clem's idea to save 'im, so I'm gonna respect that. I'd like you to, as well."

She chuckled. "Whatever. I'm gonna get back to scrounging around this place, then."

"Alright then." Luke turned back to the girl, giving her another nod and directing his gaze to the aisles in the back of the store. "There should be some supplies back there, Clem. Let's go."

Clementine nodded, proceeding to search through some of the bags and containers in the pharmacy. She tried not to think about the last time she was in a place like this, tried not to remember how Lee and Lilly had rushed as fast as they could to get the ni...tro… things for Larry, and kept her sights on searching through the items, looking for something that could help their injured enemy (or whatever he was now).

Lee and Kenny hadn't liked Larry, she remembered. But they still did a whole lot to get him those pills. She could do the same here with Troy, despite how much the lengths she was going to for a man who had struck her with his gun annoyed her.

With a sigh, she realized that Carlos should be doing this, not her. He should be alive, he should be with Sarah and getting medicine and… not where he was. He shouldn't be _dead_. Clementine didn't have time to mourn him (did she ever have time?), and just thinking about how alone her friend was now was a deep cut. After she made sure Kenny was doing okay with his eye, she made a mental note to check up on Sarah, too.

That didn't fix how lost she was in this scenario with medicine, though. She supposed bandages and a tourniquet would have to do for now. Troy could do without painkillers for now - their main priority was stopping the bleeding.

"Hey, Clem! I found some bandages," Luke called out, just as she noticed a long length of rope hanging on the back wall.

"Good. That'll make a good tourniquet." She pointed to the rope and stood on the tips of her toes, but the rope was still just out of her grasp. Luckily, Luke placed his hands on her sides and lifted her without hesitation. She squirmed a little, shooting him a glare for picking her up without asking first, but ultimately grabbed the rope without a word and crossed her arms. "I could've done that myself."

He merely smiled and handed her the bandages. "Sure. But hey, if need anything else, Clem, and I'll be glad to help. Just gimme a holler." With that, he walked off to Nick, probably going to look for something else he could do while they rested here.

Clementine watched him go and made her way back to Sarita, exchanging a glance with Kenny beforehand. The man was leaning on a counter with his arms crossed, most likely on edge because the group was at a standstill for the moment. Until they figured out the condition of their charge, they couldn't do much, after all.

"Sarita, I brought some bandages, and a rope… Do you think that'll work for a tourniquet?"

The woman turned her head and took the things off Clementine. "Yes, I think this will work just fine. But Clementine, could you help me, please? I'll just need you for a few minutes."

Without hesitation, the girl shrugged. "Sure. What do you need me to do?"

"Can you hold him in place as I set the tourniquet?" Sarita pointed to the bloody edge of Troy's severed limb, or rather the stump that the cleaver slice had left behind. It wasn't the first time Clementine had seen someone's arm cut off, and it wouldn't be the last, she'd bet. This cut wasn't as clean, though, as she'd been in a hurry doing it. It was probably very painful, given that Troy hadn't awakened yet, and indicated by the blood pooling around his limp figure still.

Without responding, Clementine held the man's torso still, noting the way he twitched in his unconscious state, probably indicating how much pain he was in. When Sarita wound the rope around his arm's stump, he only got worse; his teeth ground together and his head moved from side to side, fighting the urge to yell out in pain. His whole body was squirming, and had he been conscious, she was sure he would easily overpower him. Good thing he wasn't, though, because he probably would have been in even more agony. Clementine may not like him, but she wouldn't wish that sort of pain on anyone.

"Almost - almost…" Sarita murmured, and Clementine took a peek at what exactly she was doing. It didn't look… fun, to be honest, and she was glad that her job was only to hold Troy down. Sarita was tying the rope against what was left of his arm, the blood seeping through her fingers and staining her jacket. She kept at it, however, and made sure to knot it in multiple places so it would stay. It sure seemed sturdier than Lee's had been, that's for sure.

Kenny's voice sounded next, behind her. "Sarita, hon, are you doin' okay over there? Why waste so much time on the asshole?" The reason why both of them were working hard to save Troy was above the man's head, Clementine was sure. It didn't make much sense to her, either, but she wasn't as vocal as Kenny was.

"Kenny, please - I'm fine. And you know I can't turn my back on someone who needs help. Have you forgotten when I'd found you?" Sarita asked in response, pausing to look over to him expectantly.

Clementine always wondered how Kenny survived; Christa had told her that he was lost in an alleyway, saving his last bullet for Ben's skewered body. To be honest, Clementine was glad she hadn't been there to see the teen's death and Kenny's supposed demise, though it never would have happened in the first place if she hadn't been careless. To this day, she still blamed herself for a lot of it: Lee's bite, Ben's death, Kenny's disappearance… So many events could have been prevented had she just stayed put.

At least Kenny survived, though it was her fault he'd lost his eye, too. Clementine sighed and noticed Sarita had finally stopped making knots in the rope, and lifted her hands away from Troy. "He's stable for now, I think," she declared. They both knew she wasn't a doctor, but a kind, compassionate woman's helpfulness was all the ground had now, with their doctor dead. "Thank you, Clementine."

The girl nodded in response and let go of Troy, noting how he didn't put up a fight.

After raising a quizzical eyebrow to him, she turned away, eager to speak with Kenny now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary:** If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **I added a scene in the first chapter so something will make sense in this one. Sorry about also forgetting about Bonnie; I don't do well with stories where I have to constantly wonder where each member of the group is. Let's just say Clem didn't see Bonnie in the second chapter.

Please review if you can! :D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Walking Dead Game.

* * *

"So, darlin', I think we have some things to talk about," Kenny's voice still sounded rough and cracked from the pain of his eye injury, and he seemed very tired overall. Exhausted, even. Clementine's gaze softened; she wished he would rest a bit while they could, instead of using his time talking to her.

But still, she also knew there was no arguing with him. She nodded, and sat up on the counter next to where Kenny was leaning.

"What is it?" she asked, blinking at him. Where could he even _start_, really? There were so many unsaid things between the two of them - and while sometimes, it was good to keep feelings and words to a minimum, it was also nice to let them out.

The older man leaned back even further, placing his palms on the counter and looking down at the rough surface. "Y'remember the last time we were in a pharmacy?"

Great. Of all things, he had to start with _that_. Clementine sighed and nodded. "Yes, I remember… Lee got me an energy bar and we spent some time in his parents' office."

Kenny nodded, closing his eyes as if to envision himself in that place, in the Everetts' drugstore days after he'd met Lee and Clementine, with Katjaa and Duck by his side again, looking to him for guidance. Everyone they knew was still alive back then. Well, not _everyone_ - Clementine's parents hadn't been, she found out later. But the Motor Inn group was alive and together as a group - as a _family_.

"That's right, he did… Got one for Duck, too. He always did look out for both of you kids, didn't he?"

Her heart sank as they went into more painful territory of their memories; remembering Lee's guidance was painful enough, but adding her friend in made it that much worse. Duck wasn't the brightest child, but at least he and Clementine had each other when the world around them was crumbling. Recalling the days she'd played with him just caused her chest to hurt; turning away, she mumbled, "I… don't really want to talk about this…"

Kenny must have realized he'd said something insensitive; his eye widened and he shook his head. "Oh, shit - sorry, Clem. I know it's still hard for you - hell, it's hard for me, too."

Clementine nodded. "It's never been easy," she agreed, her gaze lowering.

"So what made you hack that ass's arm off?"

She shrugged. "I just… did what Lee would do." She was confident that's what the man would have done, had he been here. If Lee were here, he wouldn't hesitate to help, even if the person was horrible to him. At least, that was what Clementine believed. She hoped her memory of Lee wasn't inaccurate, and that he really was as kind and compassionate as she remembered. "He didn't kill the St. John brothers," she added, closing her eyes as the memories swirled around her.

That farm was strongly remembered in her mind, as most of her senses recalled what it was like. The smell of fresh grass, the warm nostalgia associated with sitting at a table for dinner, the feel of a cow's coarse fur, and the spine-tingling fear of death… It seemed that the memories with senses other than sight were the strongest in her mind. For a moment, she was afraid she'd open her eyes and see Kenny, Lilly, and Lee arguing in the meat locker.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she nearly jumped. Once her eyes snapped open, however, the illusion was gone, and she was in the pharmacy again with Kenny.

"Clem? You in there?"

Shaking her head, the girl replied, "Y-yeah, sorry. I was just… remembering." Though she tried her hardest not to remember, things always made it past her mental barrier. She doubted those times would fade anytime soon, too.

"It's alright. I was saying that Lee raised you in a good way. I may not agree with everythin' you do, but… well, you're more than capable of deciding things yourself." It seemed to finally dawn on Kenny that she wasn't a little girl anymore - that this world had stolen her innocence and she had moved on without it.

"Thank you, Kenny," she replied with a small smile.

The man nodded, giving her a warm grin back, and then his expression fell. Before she could ask what was wrong, his gaze drifted over to Sarita, a dull look settling in his eyes. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'm just seein' Kat in her," he whispered.

Though Clementine knew she was more than capable to make decisions an eleven-year-old normally wouldn't be able to, she absolutely could not help in this department. If Lee were here, perhaps he could offer some insight for his friend, but Clementine was just another child when it came to adult affairs like this. She shook her head, turning away for a moment. "This isn't the time," she murmured, a bit sharply. Whether Kenny saw Katjaa in Sarita or not was none of her business.

Kenny blinked, the realization of who he was talking to seemingly dawning on him. "Fuck. You're right, this ain't the time, and you ain't the person I should be talkin' about this with. Sorry, darlin'." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, to which she nodded in understanding.

While both of their sights were still on Sarita, Kenny commented, "I wonder if you'll get a thank you in the end for savin' his life."

The girl shrugged. Honestly, she hadn't been expecting one, nor did it really matter in a situation like this. "We're all survivors," she pointed out, "we have to look out for one another, don't we?" That was all she was doing, in the end.

"You sure as hell didn't mind me bashing in that fucker's face."

Well, Carver's case was a bit different. That man had held them prisoner, invoked fear in all of his 'family members,' oppressed everyone with his system, made Carlos physically harm Sarah, and to top it all off, he _beat_ Kenny and made him lose an eye. Clementine never thought any human could top a walker in terms of monstrous behavior, but William Carver proved her wrong in the end.

"That was different," she projected, narrowing her eyes. "_He_ deserved it."

Kenny smirked back at her, showing approval of her words. "I couldn't agree more, Clem."

"Thanks," she replied. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Besides the fact that we're in a drugstore again and it seems kinda quiet without Larry barkin' about at everyone? Nah." Kenny chuckled under his breath, gazing at the floor as he was surely overwhelmed by memories.

Clementine looked away, towards the other set of counters across the store, remembering she had to see Sarah. "I need to go check on my friend," she murmured, "Carlos was her dad… I think she's really broken up over everything."

Given that Kenny had fallen apart after his entire family died all at once, the man surely wasn't surprised. He nodded somberly. "Go do what you need to, Clem. We'll chat more later, if you like."

The girl gave him one last glance before walking across the store, to where Sarah was still curled up and sobbing. She peered over the edge of the counter, whispering her name. The other girl didn't seem to take notice, rocking back and forth as she hugged her knees, her glasses noticeably cracked on her face.

After hopping over the counter, Clementine bent down to her friend's level. "Sarah…? Sarah, it's me," she said, waving a hand in front of her face. "It's Clementine. We made it out of the walker hoard."

Sarah's lifeless eyes drifted to her friend, a very recognizable defeat shifting through her brown irises. Her mouth hung open as she pushed quiet, broken words off her tongue: "...not everyone made it out…"

Clementine's heart fell at the sight of her. Sarah had been so naive - in a way, she reminded her of how she herself used to be. It was human nature to want to protect someone so childlike, she supposed; something so precious as innocence in this nightmare world had to be cherished and guarded. Carlos had wanted to keep the horrors of society (or lack thereof) from his daughter until his gruesome end, but the truth was that no one stayed innocent now.

No one could keep something so treasured for themselves for too long. Eventually, the world would come and snatch it away.

"Sarah… I'm really sorry…" Clementine was horrible at this sort of thing, but she was trying her hardest. She sat down in front of Sarah on her knees, her eyes shimmering with sadness. This had been hard to hear from Lee after she'd seen her parents as walkers, and it would be hard for Sarah to hear, but it needed to be said.

She lowered her head to look the other girl in the eyes. "Sarah, you need to hear me," she hissed quietly, making sure that her friend was looking back at her. She could only see emptiness behind those cracked frames, but at least she was keeping eye contact. Clementine continued, "You're _strong_, Sarah. You're going to see bad things, but you'll make it. And I'll be here to help you."

Her hands reached for her friends, prying Sarah's cold fingers out of the fists she'd clenched in despair to lace her own around them tightly.

The girl hiccuped, seemingly coming back to life from her previous shell state, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Clementine, sobbing into her shoulder. "I-it… it- it hurts so much…! D-Dad… _Daddy_!" she wailed, her hands tightening around her friend's.

Clementine let her cry it out, knowing that this would be good for her in the end. Once the girl's cries finally seemed to subside, she lifted one of Sarah's hands and interlocked their pinkies. "You're _strong_. And we'll be friends forever, no matter what happens," she promised.

She knew she couldn't promise something as sugary sweet as 'I'll never leave you,' because she knew very well that anyone could die at any time. She also realized Sarah would never be the same now, and that she'd have to expose the other girl to the horrors of the world and teach her to protect herself. She'd have to be Sarah's 'Lee'.

Eventually, she shifted so she was sitting next to Sarah, their fingers still intertwined. Leaning her head on the older girl's shoulder, she realized how tired she felt all of a sudden. For now, she supposed she could close her eyes and rest, just like she had wished Kenny would do. Though it was important to be alert at all times, Clementine recognized that they were safe enough for now, and she trusted the rest of the group enough to alert her if anything was breaking in.

With a sleepy sigh, her eyes finally shut, listening to Sarah's breathing even out, indicating she'd fallen asleep, too. Clementine let herself be dragged under by sleep's darkness.

* * *

"What the f-fuckin' _hell_ is going on here? Why am I - what the fuck did you assholes do to me!?"

At the loud, rough voice, Clementine's eyes snapped open and she instantly sprung to her feet, one hand reaching for the cleaver she still had in her back pocket. Her gaze, still blurred from slumber, tracked around the room, noting the changes in the room since she'd fallen asleep.

Sarah was still next to her, eyes widened and alert. Clementine saw Rebecca now seated on a cushion of some sort towards the back of the store, Kenny and Mike nearly blocking her from view. Their faces were contorted with anger, directed towards the table where Troy was.

_Troy!_

Clementine's eyes whipped over to the table, noting their 'guest' was now seated up, a fierce glare on his face as he struggled to stand up. Luke, Nick, and Jane surrounded him, Sarita a ways off behind them. Tightening her grip on the cleaver, Clementine sprinted over to him, just in the event she'd have to use it.

However, once Troy noticed her with it, his eyes widened in surprise and he seemed to shrink back due to the instinctive fear associated with it. She couldn't blame him there - the same weapon had sliced his arm off.

But she didn't allow him any sympathy. Her eyes narrowed, she snapped, "How long were you awake?"

The man's mouth hung open for a few moments, his eyes darting about, before he stammered out, "I- I don't know! How the fuck did I get here? How long was I fuckin' out, you little _shitstain_!?"

Bonnie, whom Clementine had nearly forgotten about in their large group, sounded from behind her. "Troy, you should think about bein' nicer to Clementine. She saved your _life_, you know."

Troy's features softened for a moment before he glared her way. "What the fuck do you mean? Where'd my arm go? Why does everythin' fuckin' hurt? Why does everyone smell like shit? Why do _I_ smell like shit?" He looked around, finally noticing just how many of the group was around him; Clementine narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, giving him a sour look.

He gave her one right back. "The fuck are you looking at-"

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Clementine crossed her arms. "I cut your arm off. Did you forget?" Just for emphasis, she showed him the blade, still stained with his blood; he flinched as he saw it, eyes darting between it and her.

"Wh-why did you…" His teeth clenched and a low growl rumbled in his throat, as if he had trouble connecting the pieces to this puzzle.

"Because you were bitten." Her eyes narrowed further, into slits.

He scoffed, curling his lips to a smirk and wrenching himself off the table, wobbling a bit on his feet. It seemed he wasn't used to being one-armed just yet (obviously), and had to take a few minutes before straightening his spine, as if he could get back that air of authority he had in Carver's camp.

"Alright, y'all. Back to _fucking_ work. Do I need to get Bill here to order you assholes around?" he sneered, turning to Clementine when she didn't move. "Did I fucking stutter?" It almost seemed like he was desperate to be in charge again, asserting himself as someone above them when he clearly was not any longer.

Luke crossed his arms. "Troy, uh… Bill's dead." At the silent, shocked look the other man was giving him, he continued, "And we're not in the prison anymore. We managed to escape by coverin' ourselves in walker guts. _That's_ what we all smell like."

Nick nodded. "You're a lucky son-of-a-bitch, too. Clem hacked off your arm after you got bit," he reiterated Clementine's earlier words, looking away uncomfortably.

Troy looked flabbergasted. His mouth hung open, eyes looking about, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to speak. "I- wh-what… I don't get-" He shook his head, looking to Bonnie. "Why aren't you orderin' them around?"

Bonnie sighed. "Because I helped them _escape_, Troy. I couldn't take what Bill was doin' to them any longer. And now you owe these people your life, so I'd recommend startin' fresh here. S'the least you can do, considerin'."

The man scoffed, nearly falling over in the process of walking up to her. "I don't gotta do _shit_, Bonnie-"

"Actually, you do," Jane replied, taking a step towards him with a wickedly smug smile. "You don't get to make the rules anymore, Troy." She seemed overjoyed at this fact, and the look in her eyes seemed… dangerous.

"She's right," Luke added, "Now, you can comply and be our ally, but if not, we'll consider you a prisoner. It's as simple as that, Troy." While it was clear Luke didn't enjoy Troy's company here, he was at least willing to work beside him if he cleaned up some of his act.

Clementine felt the same, really. She didn't like Troy, and didn't think she would anytime soon, but she'd make sure he didn't put any of her friends in danger. Of course, he was still getting used to his one arm, so it would take a bit for him to get his bearings. He wouldn't have that big rifle he showed off back at Carver's, and would have to rely on blades or smaller guns now.

She shot a frown Troy's way. "It's your choice, in the end."

The man considered his options, his face tightening with tension for a few moments. He looked around at the others, those he'd pushed around and yelled at during his reign under William Carver. But those days were over now, and he was stuck with them for now. Clementine had to imagine that it felt scary, being in a new place with people who hated you - but he brought it upon himself, so she didn't feel much sympathy for him.

In the end, his facial expression clarified that he was very unhappy, but still he nodded. "Fine. I'll stick with you assholes until I can go my own way."

She wondered when that would be, exactly. Hopefully soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary:** If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Sooooo who else is mad about Episode 4? I won't spoil anything but the characters that were given the short end of the stick will probably get more than their fair share of glory in this fic. As much as I can, anyway.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Walking Dead Game.

* * *

After most of the group had had a sufficient rest, it became apparent that they could not stay at the pharmacy. Kenny was the first to speak up after Troy had awoken and spat out insults. The older man was straight to business, as always; approaching the main portion of their group after everyone had grown quiet from the tension with their new 'guest'.

"Alright, we shouldn't let this new _baggage_," he shot a glare Troy's way, "stop us from our plan to find someplace safe. With Carver out of the way, the threat's gone too, isn't it? I think we should stick together and make our way towards the civil war museum up the road." He scanned the group, eyes settling on each member meaningfully. When his gaze reached Clementine, he nodded to her. "Clem, I'll trust you to make sure Troy doesn't fall behind."

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted (almost expectantly).

"_Excuse me_?" Troy snapped, his face twisting in anger. He stumbled forward, gaze glaring into Kenny's. "I'm not a fuckin' _baby_, you know. I don't want you to put me in the care of this little shit-"

Kenny crossed his arms, narrowing his good eye. "Well that's funny, because frankly I don't give two _shits_ what you want me to do. And like it or not, the fact is that you're… less capable… than you once were. S'just a fact, right?" He raised an eyebrow, giving a sheepish smile.

Jane chuckled lowly, her words like honey. "Don't worry, Troy. It's not like you made fun of Reggie every time you saw him, right? It's a good thing you didn't call him a cripple or broken. Because I mean, that would be just so damn ironic, now, wouldn't it? Oh… wait…" Her smile was even more sickenly sweet; Clementine wondered just who she was, and what her story had been so far. She couldn't help but smile at the snip towards Troy. It was almost refreshing to see someone rattle him up, in a way.

He, of course, didn't take too kindly to that; narrowing his eyes, he snapped, "You got a big fuckin' mouth, _bitch_."

"Anyway," Kenny interrupted, moving in between the two, "the reality is that you're still a weak spot in the group. Your arm's drippin' blood and you're not used to fighting with your left arm, I'll bet. So the plan remains the same. We're goin' as a group." He smirked and gave stern looks to both Jane and Troy, leaving no room for argument.

Clementine recalled how many instances Kenny tried to become in charge back when Lee was alive; at the Motor Inn, he had bashed heads with Lilly more times than necessary. She was sort of used to it at this point, and their group needed to look to someone confident enough to lead, especially now that Carlos was gone.

The girl looked over to Luke and Nick, who were standing next to her, and asked, "Are you guys okay with that?" When they both nodded, she asked the same question to Rebecca and Sarah, who nodded and looked away respectively.

Since the rest of her original group seemed to approve, she gave a firm nod herself to Kenny, declaring, "We're all fine with that… I think we should move, though."

"My thoughts exactly," Kenny replied. Sarita grabbed the medical supplies they'd found in the drugstore, as well as the small amount of food that had been in aisles towards the back, and placed them all inside a backpack. Luckily, this store still had things like that laying about, just ripe for the picking. Everyone took as much as they could, making sure they could still be able to fight, should a threat come by.

Without another word said, they headed out.

* * *

The rest of the strip mall didn't have as many supplies as the drugstore, unfortunately. In fact, its stock was significantly lower overall, prompting Clementine to believe that most of everything had been raided out a long time ago. She'd scrounged up a backpack of her own, as her old one was gone for good (as was the picture of Lee, unfortunately…).

After placing some of the bandages Sarita had collected, and some antiseptic spray, Clementine hauled her bag onto her back and stepped out with the rest of the group. Kenny, Sarita, Bonnie, Mike, and Jane led them; Rebecca was watched closely by Luke, and Nick, Troy, and Sarah were walking in the back near Clementine. The girl was keeping a close watch on her friend, as she knew Sarah was very unstable right now (not that she blamed her).

"Sarah…? Are you okay?" she whispered, light brown eyes flicking over to her friend. The taller girl, still wearing cracked frames for glasses, managed a trembling nod. Clementine reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

Sarah let out a shaky breath, her own hand's grip tightening around Clementine's, her eyes darting around for any slight sign of danger. "I-is there… any way we can stay together?" she asked, her words little more than a squeak as they left her lips.

"Stay close to me," Clementine answered, realizing that was as much of an answer as she could give the older girl. She couldn't promise anything - in fact, she was sure nothing was set in stone at _all_ in the world they lived in. Sarah had to learn that sometime, and hopefully would soon.

Before Sarah could answer, an irritating voice sounded from just behind them. "Hey! Kid! Did any of y'all think to give me a _fucking_ weapon?" For some reason, a grown man was running to the eleven-year-old for help (not that she hadn't seen that before) instead of the other grown man right next to him.

Clementine narrowed her eyes at Troy, muttering, "Why would we give _you_ a gun?"

"Why the hell not?" he shot back.

"_Because_, asshole," Nick interjected with a roll of his eyes, "we know _better_ than to trust you with a weapon right now. Especially since you've been known to treat us like pieces of shit."

Clementine nodded, flashing a smug smile towards the amputee. "Unless you prove you can be given a weapon and not run, we'll be holding onto them for now."

Troy's lips curled into a snarl, but he kept his mouth shut. Seemed he had a bit more sense than Clementine had thought. She kept her eyes trained ahead, scanning the path they travelled down for any sense of danger. Signs pointing in the direction of Parkour's Run, the civil war museum that seemed to be their best bet for safety. Clementine wondered what would be left of it, but ultimately, she didn't have high hopes. An advertised place like that was most likely picked clean early on.

"Hey!" Nick hissed behind her, prompting her to turn her head to see what was going on. He was shoving Troy, a fierce glare plastered on his face. Clementine noticed his grip tighten around the gun he held in his hands, and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"What's the matter?" she asked, blinking.

"This asshole won't stop eyein' me up," Troy replied, cocking his head over to glare towards Nick. "Like he thinks I'll make a run fer it first chance I get."

"Well how the fuck do I know you're not?" Nick snapped in reply, raising his head to meet the other man's eyes.

Troy thrust his face inches away from Nick's, baring his teeth like an animal. "I'm. Fucking. _Maimed_! Y'think I'll get goddamn anywhere with one arm and no weapons!?" Huffing, he stomped his foot down and added, "Use some goddamn _sense_ for once!"

Nick scoffed. "I am! I don't trust you one fucking bit. I'm makin' sure you don't try to get at Clementine or Sarah or anyone."

The girl nodded. "Listen to Nick. I'll put him in charge of you if you don't watch it." She enjoyed the way his face scrunched up in anger; assigning someone to watch him didn't sound like such a bad idea, actually. Nick was capable enough, and seemed to respect Clementine's decision to spare Troy (no matter how much he may not approve of it).

Troy was probably so used to being one of the top dogs that he'd forgotten what it was like to be on the bottom. Clementine didn't feel a shred of pity for him, not with the wound he'd given her still fresh on her cheek. After narrowing her eyes in his direction, she turned back to Sarah.

"Are you… doing okay?" she whispered, reaching out to hold the girl's hand.

Surprisingly, Sarah accepted her gestured, and returned the grip tightly. "I… I'm not okay. I don't feel okay. Am I going to be okay, Clementine? I… I want my dad. Is he coming…?" She looked behind her, as if Carlos would somehow appear down the path, completely unharmed.

But the reality was all-too-real for Clementine; Carlos wasn't coming, and Sarah needed to know it, no matter how painful.

"Sarah, he's not coming," she began gently, giving her friend's hand a squeeze. "He's… he's gone." She didn't want to be too harsh, but the truth needed to be said. Sarah was naive, and would be quick to jump to any ounce of hope if Clementine didn't wake her up with reality.

The older girl's eyes widened, as if her father's fate had settled in once more, and tears sprung underneath her eyelids. "Wh…" Her voice shook as she tried to push words past her lips, the horror evident in her expression. Arms wrapping around herself, she lowered her gaze and slowed her pace, falling behind on the path.

Clementine's gaze followed her, straggling behind until she bumped into Troy, who flinched at the collision.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doin'!?" Troy yelled, using his good arm to push Sarah forward. "Pick up the pace, you little shit!" The moment he put his hand on her, Clementine moved, grabbing the stump left of his right arm and shoved him away from her friend, her lips drawn back in anger.

At the first hint of a touch, Troy flinched, and let out a yowl of pain when Clementine didn't let go. She tightened her grip around the wound, digging her nails into the light fabric of the bandages. Her fingers dripped blood, and Troy attempting to wriggle from her grasp - unsuccessfully, mind you, and yelling out garbled curses at her.

"Don't. Touch. Sarah. _**Ever**_!" she snarled, teeth gnashing together in fury. She didn't often lose her temper (merely showing displeasure from afar, silently), but if this ass thought he was going to pretend like he was still in charge…

Well, she'd have to teach him that he _wasn't_.

She could feel Nick's hands coming between her and Troy, drawing her arm away from what was left of his. "Easy! Easy, Clementine!" he exclaimed, eyes darting between the two of them.

Troy was panting, his head lowered and severed limb twitching in pain; sweat trickling down his forehead as he struggled to keep his pace with the rest of the group.

"Everythin' alright back there?" Kenny asked, not bothering to turn his head.

"It's fine!" Clementine yelled back, shooting a glare towards Troy.

"We got it under control, old man," Nick added, turning his head to their 'guest'. "A _misunderstandin'_. Right, Troy?"

The man swallowed hard and took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging and eyes closing for a few brief moments. "Y...yeah. Yeah, s'all it was." Maybe he finally realized he was at a disadvantage here; Clementine would like to have hoped that was what happened, but honestly, she just assumed he was in too much pain to focus. His track record with dealing with others, and the fact that he also muttered a quick, "You little shit…" more or less confirmed her theory.

But she had more important things to focus on. She watched Sarah trail further and further behind as they moved, biting her lip and trying to get her friend to catch up. She understood her grief, and her need for time to recover, but Clementine didn't want anything to happen to her friend, either. "Sarah, we need to keep moving," she urged, noticing with despair how Nick and Troy had passed them up already.

"Um, but… what if my dad…?" Sarah's voice was a broken whisper; she was trying so hard to be hopeful, but it seemed even she realized the truth. Clementine sighed and placed a hand on the girl's back, rubbing it as soothingly as she could.

"It's alright, Sarah," she murmured. "But we _need_ to go. You know that, don't you?" Sarah nodded, although hesitantly. Clementine sighed in relief. Good - she understood why they had to keep their pace; falling behind was dangerous, especially considering they'd just escaped a walker hoard.

Speaking of walkers, the moment Clementine thought back to the snarling infestation of death, she heard the familiar growling in the distance. Turning her head, she gazed down the long road they'd travelled, spotting the strip mall in the distance. In between them and the building was a small herd of walkers, swiping and biting at the air hungrily.

_Shit! _There wasn't much time before that herd caught up to them; they outnumbered their small group and the lack of weapons on every person was definitely a disadvantage. Clementine was fairly confident they could make it out alive with tactful thinking, but she needed to alert the others to come up with a plan.

[Yell to Kenny] [Yell to Luke] **[Yell to Nick] ** [...]

"Nick!" she screamed, prompting the man to turn his head and spot the huge threat not too far behind them. Eyes widening, he alerted Luke and the rest up at the front of the group.

"Aw, shit!" Mike cursed. "Any of y'all got any bright ideas on how to get outta that?"

"We'll need to split up," Jane replied, her tone as icy as ever.

"Sounds like a plan," Kenny agreed, raising his voice. "Luke, Sarita - keep moving with Rebecca. Go as fast as y'can; shoot forward if you need to, but _don't look back_. Clementine, take Sarah and Troy with you and follow them. Be the second wave - shoot behind if you need to, but only if you need to." His one-eyed gaze trailed over the remainder of the group. "Nick, Bonnie, and Mike - y'all ready to shoot some walkers with me?"

"Hell yeah," Nick replied with a slight smirk, obviously pleased that someone was putting their faith in him.

"Good," Kenny replied, reflecting his grin. "Everyone, just follow the signs and meet up at Parkour's Run. Good luck, and _stay safe_!"

At the words, Clementine wasted no time; grabbing Sarah's hand, she began to pull her friend forward, charging up behind Luke, Sarita, and Rebecca. She knew their position was more or less to guard Rebecca and her baby, and that was just fine with her; she'd make sure no walker even _touched_ her. Her weapon raised, she glanced around for any enemies in the trees on both sides of them, ready to strike.

Growls and hisses sounded from nearby, but she couldn't quite place where they were coming from. The threat was evident; it made her head spin to not know _where_ it was, though.

A loud yell answered her thoughts, ringing out sharply. "What the - _hey, get the fuck off me_!" Turning around, Clementine spotted a lone walker clawing at Troy, grabbing his jacket and dragging him into the woods. More walkers lurched behind it, but hadn't reached him just yet.

She moved without thinking, turning back to Sarah for a moment and firmly telling her, "Sarah, stay with Rebecca, Luke, and Sarita. Stay with them. I _promise_ I'll come back." Even though her heart told her not to promise, she couldn't help it; Sarah needed to hear those words. The girl nodded shakily, and Clementine didn't stay to hear her quiet response; she sprinted forward, towards the walker and Troy.

The man struggled with the creature, his good arm trying to pry the dead fingers off his jacket, but it was no use. With no weapon, he'd be as good as walker food without help; though Clementine didn't particularly _like_ saving his ass, it became something that she just felt she needed to do. He was alive because of her - didn't that make him her responsibility, in a way?

Her cleaver sliced into the walker's face before it could take a bite out of Troy, killing it instantly. Gravity sunk in and it toppled onto Troy, who was weakened enough to be pushed down onto the ground by its force.

"Get up!" Clementine yelled, pulling her weapon from the corpse and raising it towards the four or so still a bit further into the woods. With a sinking despair, she realized that she could not take all of them by herself, especially with one weapon. Her gaze drifted to Troy, as if he could be of any help.

He struggled to his feet, glaring at the incoming walkers. "Can't take 'em ourselves," he muttered, tone focused despite the situation, "we'll need to run into the woods to lose 'em."

Clementine's eyes widened. "That - that's just about the dumbest plan I've ever heard! What if there are _more_ in there?"

"Y'really wanna lead them back to the others?" Troy snarled, already backing up into the forest, away from the walkers. "'sides, I know the way to Parkour's Run. Can lead us there pretty quick."

It was hardly the time, but Clementine crossed her arms. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"Oh for the love of _Christ_ - y'can do that thing y'were doin' earlier if y'find out I tricked ya!" Troy snapped back, deciding what to do for himself and sprinting into the trees.

"Troy! Troy!" Clementine hissed after him. What an _idiot_! He couldn't survive by himself, and she didn't want to lead the walkers (and any others that may be hiding nearby) to Rebecca and the others, so what choice did she have?

She'd really have to grab his stumpy arm _good_ when they reached the museum.

After casting a glance back at the others, she yelled, "We'll be fine! Meet you at Parkour's Run!" and chased after the one-armed moron.

He wasn't as fast as she thought; after a few moments, she caught up to him and shot a glare his way. "What the heck is wrong with you? This is _stupid_!"

Troy flashed her a sour look right back. "Relax, kid. Think of it this way - we'll be good and covered in here."

"Maybe _you_ will be," Clementine muttered, huffing an exasperated sigh. "_You're_ the one in camouflage." With disdain, she glanced down at the jacket Bonnie had given her; though warm, the neon blue color was easy to spot among the dark green foliage of the forest.

"Hey, I'm not sayin' you're a dumbass for pickin' that color, but… you're a dumbass."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and reminding herself not to take the words to heart, and that this was _Troy_ - he obviously didn't know the first thing about survival.

Aside from constantly licking Carver's shoes, of course.


	5. Chapter 5

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary:** If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Rating: **T

**Notes: **Wow look at us on Chapter 5! Where is this going? Who knows! I'm gonna try to remake episode 4, though! With more Troy, Sarah, and Nick, for sure! Probably Sarita too!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Walking Dead Game.

* * *

The growls of several walkers echoed in the forest, the sunset's streaks of orange splashing on Clementine's face as her feet took her in one direction as fast as she could. Behind her, her one-armed charge was stumbling and breathing heavily as he struggled to keep up. She didn't want to stop - wanted to just leave him to walkers and get to Parker's Run to meet her real friends - but everything would have been for nothing if she did.

And she didn't save him for _nothing_.

"Hurry!" Slowing down, the girl whipped around and clamped her hand around the camouflaged fabric of Troy's jacket, yanking him along as his pace began to slow down. He was panting, pained gasps leaving his lips as they ran along, and it became clear that he couldn't keep running.

"S- slow down, you little…" he wheezed, the usual venom in his voice disguised as fatigue. No, she absolutely couldn't slow down, not with the walkers behind them snarling and hunting them like prey. Her fingers clasped his sleeve tighter, refusing to let go and stop dragging him.

"We can't slow down," she replied sharply, her tone almost scolding. "You _know_ we can't." Slowing down meant surrendering - which meant immediate, assured _death_. Couldn't Troy see that, even in his injured state?

He looked on the verge of passing out, his skin paling and his eyes forming a hazy glaze over them, but something kept him on his feet. Maybe it was the pure fear of what would happen if they stopped, or a stubbornness that he couldn't let go of. Whatever the case, Clementine was glad he wasn't collapsing, because that would mean the end, as she couldn't very well carry him (nor did she want to).

Troy was keeping himself alive at this point - she couldn't do so any longer.

And so they raced through the forest, Clementine asking which way to go and Troy providing directions as best he could in his condition, and she could only hope they were on the right track. They weren't on a set path with signs anymore, which would have made things a _hell_ of a lot easier.

But no, someone had to suggest they take the forest route. That certain someone seemed to forget that he was missing one of his limbs and had lost enough blood to satisfy Bunnicula for a few _weeks_.

Actually, no - Bunnicula sucked the juice out of vegetables, not actual blood.

Wait - why was she thinking of a vampire rabbit at this time? When there were literally mindless creatures following the two of them through the forest, and her companion was about as useful as a sip of apple juice to ease the pain of digging a needle into a wound.

Speaking of, that wound still bothered her at times when she moved her arm the wrong way, but luckily her jacket (the same one that Troy had scorned) was keeping it from getting jerked around or cut into deeper. In a way, it was cocooning it until it scabbed over and became a scar.

Troy's injury was a bit different; his would take much, much longer to heal, but at least it had finally stopped dripping blood. The bandages were deep red by now, the rope keeping the blood flow clotted also painted the crimson color, but it wasn't leaving a trail behind them any longer. He may not be completely out of danger, but it was a step in the right direction.

"U-up here, we're gonna turn left." Troy's mutter snapped Clementine out of her thoughts; she gave a nod to him and shifted them in the direction he had indicated. "Do… do you see the path up the hill?" He continued, his voice growing quieter.

She lifted her head; indeed, just as he indicated, the trees fanned out until they had dissolved into an small open space, a nearby hill sloping upwards. It didn't look too steep, and Clementine could scarcely see the markings of a path at the top. If Troy had been correct (and she hoped he wasn't lying at this point, but she never knew with people like him), they just had to follow that path and find the signs that pointed to Parker's Run. It would be easy once they made it up that hill.

Crunching through the fallen leaves littered at her feet, the girl paused and sized up the hill, her gaze flicking to her companion.

"Do you think you'll be able to get up that hill?" she asked, honestly unsure of his capabilities. It didn't look like much for her, but she was small and agile, and he was missing an arm…

He didn't seem to be eager to show his weakness, however. Rolling his eyes, the man snapped, "Of fuckin' course I can. It's not even _steep_, Clementine; you're makin' a mountain out of a molehill - _literally_." With no further comment, he marched up to the slope and, after a moment's hesitation, started to climb.

It was sort of pathetic to watch.

He wasn't making much progress, struggling at a spot near the bottom; his stump arm twitched as if he meant to move it to crawl up the hill, but once he realized that _that_ wouldn't work, attempted to save face and use his non-dominant hand to keep his balance.

With a sigh, Clementine grabbed his jacket again and began dragging him up the hill; which, according to him, wouldn't be a problem. She may not see him as a definite threat anymore, but that didn't mean she had to trust his word. Clearly, he didn't even know his own strength (or lack thereof).

Troy, of course, didn't like her decision, but she hardly cared. "Wh- Quit it! Goddamnit, let - _let me go_!" He growled, wriggling in her grasp and attempting to pry her off. Obviously, however, it didn't work, and he merely looked silly in his attempts.

"Quiet," the girl muttered in response, her expression clearly not amused. "Be an adult and quit whining for once!" For God's sake, she was eleven and she was not acting this bad. How did someone like this survive in Carver's 'community' for as long as he did? It remained a mystery to her.

After a few more minutes of struggling (well, more like Troy desperately trying to flail out of her grasp and Clementine only gripping that much tighter, as if to spite him), they finally made it up the hill. It didn't seem like much when they'd found it, but with the amount of effort she used to merely _get up it_, Clementine already felt a bit tired. But sleep could wait - they needed to get to Parker's Run, and quickly.

She was worried about the others, after all; the small group of walkers didn't look like much, but she'd seen people die going up against even smaller amounts. It did make her nervous, not having anyone familiar (or friendly) around her, but she needed to be brave. Lee had taught her well.

Once they were safely back on the inclined path the hill had led to, she let go of her companion's jacket. He was glaring fiercely at her and moved to smack her, but the injury had slowed him down considerably, and she was able to dodge out of his way in time.

"Don't hit me!" she scolded, as if he was a child.

"You fuckin' _dragged_ me up there!" he shot back, still catching his breath.

With a deadpan expression, Clementine replied, "Well, you weren't making much progress yourself. I was _helping_ you get up the hill."

The man obviously didn't think it was so funny. "Yeah _fuckin'_ right," he hissed, teeth gnashed together in anger. "A-anyway, this here path leads straight to the museum. See the signs?" Pointing, he indicated the advertisements posted all along the path for Parker's Run. One would have to be blind to not be able to figure out where it was; and even if that were the case, Clementine doubted it'd be missed.

She held her gaze ahead of them, hand clenched around her cleaver's hilt just in case. "When we get there," she began, eyes scanning their surroundings, "we're going to wait for the others. Unless they're already there."

"What about my fuckin' arm?"

"What about it?" She looked at him, noticing for the first time how red the bandages had become; it didn't look infected or anything (not that she could tell, to be fair), but it was already bleeding through the tourniquet a bit - just dripping slightly for now, like a sink faucet that someone forgot to turn off all the way, but she realized that soon it could become a steady stream of blood (blood, she noted, that Troy couldn't afford to lose anymore of).

"Oh," she whispered, his concern making sense now.

[Deal with it.] [Do you need to stop?] **[We'll get someone to look at it.]** [...]

"When we meet with the others, we'll have someone change the bandages," she offered, biting the inside of her cheek absentmindedly. "I'm sure Sarita could help again… she did it before…"

It didn't seem right to make Sarita his caretaker, though; Clementine had been the one who forced him into the group with her split-second decision. Maybe she should change the bandages. It wasn't like she was squeamish; that side of her had decayed long ago after seeing how gruesome everyday life had become. Sewing up the huge gash in her own arm helped numb her to gore, as well.

"Or I could," she added thoughtfully, unsure of where she was even going with her response now. Hopefully he got the point - it _would_ be taken care of, no matter who was doing it.

Scoffing, Troy didn't respond, focusing his own sights on what was ahead of them. Clementine rolled her eyes and followed suit, gazing at the building at the end of the path. Judging by the signs reading 'PARKER'S RUN,' it seemed to be the exact place they were meant to go. There were no signs of the others, unfortunately, but the area was big enough to start scouting for supplies and safe spots.

Once they reached the actual museum at the end of the path - in shambles, but could possibly still be holding some treasures - Clementine turned to Troy. "You look pale," she muttered. "You should probably sit down for a bit." She gestured to a corner of the small first floor of the building, by some displays of some civil war relics.

Troy didn't need to be told twice. Without a word, he obeyed, walking over to the corner and sitting down, his head low and his breathing heavy. She didn't feel sorry for him, but it was still sort of sad to watch. He'd been powerful enough, once, albeit an asshole. "Fuckin' kid…" he muttered, though it was halfhearted.

Watching him settle down and keeping an eye out for any danger around, Clementine decided to look around the museum a bit. There wasn't much left in terms of displays, but what was left standing was quite interesting. Maps and battle strategies were behind glass cases, indicating specific events of the civil war. Clementine hadn't gotten to learn about that in school before the world changed, but all she could think of while scavenging was Lee.

"Lee would've loved this place…" she murmured under her breath, a hollowness washing over her.

She missed Lee so much. It felt like just yesterday he was by her side; every time she was reminded of him, a part of her heart felt as though it'd been ripped out - and she knew she wouldn't ever get those parts of her back, either.

Dragging her gaze from the display (and the memories associated with it), Clementine continued to look around for items, noticing a gray coat seated inside one of the broken exhibits. She picked it up, examining it thoroughly before turning to Troy.

"Do you think Rebecca would like this?" she asked. The woman was probably closer to giving birth than she let on, and even still, she could use something to keep her warm if they were going to keep heading north.

The man shrugged weakly, a glaze over his eyes. "It's a fucking Confederate coat, y'know."

Glancing down at it, Clementine realized that he was right. Lee had told her once about the Confederates and the Union in the Civil War, but hadn't gotten to explore much deeper than that. She did remember Lee saying the Confederates had gray coats, though. She was a bit surprised Troy knew that, but then again, it was common knowledge.

"It's still a coat," she pointed out, shrugging herself. It would be up to Rebecca if she was going to accept it or not, but Clementine seriously doubted she'd have an issue with it. Things like this were so petty nowadays; everything could be useful, despite sour origins.

Actually, that applied to Troy, as well. Maybe he could prove his worth if he cleaned up his attitude a little.

She handed the coat off to the man, and continued to look around, noticing a slightly-sealed opening to a small, office-like room. Tilting her head, Clementine crouched and peered inside.

"There's… there's a whole tub of fresh water in there!" she exclaimed, eyes shimmering at the clean-looking container just out of her reach. "I think I can squeeze in there to get it…"

However, before she could do so, a small chirping noise echoed through the ruins of the museum. It was faint, but she managed to hear it in the quietness of her surroundings; clutching her cleaver tightly, she looked around, following the sound until she found the source.

A fluffy, small raccoon was poking around on the opposite side of the building, sniffing and clawing the ground for anything edible. She stared at it, wide-eyed, and looked back at Troy. She didn't want his advice or anything, but she did want to see if he saw it.

And he did. Eyes a bit wider, he leaned forward and gazed at the animal, eyes flicking back to Clementine. Nodding, he whispered, "Go get it. We could use a decent fuckin' meal."

She did want to say that if he wanted the damn thing so badly, he should get it himself, but she knew he couldn't do that. With an inaudible sigh, she turned back towards the raccoon and silently crept towards it, eyes fixated on its black and gray pelt. Indeed, it would make a great meal, especially for the weaker members of their party.

Holding her breath, Clementine leapt forward, arms outstretched and ready to grab the animal. Once she moved, however, the raccoon was alerted of her presence, thus making it able to dodge her (rather slow) attempt at a pounce. It chirped wildly, as if angry with her for attempting to grab it, and scurried further into the museum. It passed Troy, who made a pitiful motion to snatch it up, but it merely hissed at him in response. His eyes wide, he brought a hand up in defense, watching it climb over his legs. With no care to his comfort, it no doubt scratched up his legs with its claws and moved on, darting around the back of the ruins and outside once more.

Clementine flashed a glare at Troy, who gave her one just as fierce right back. "What the shit was that? You couldn't have done a better job?" he asked, huffing. She merely crossed her arms in response, rolling her eyes.

"You didn't do such a very good job," she grumbled. "And _you_ wanted to get it."

"Because it was _meat_! It could'a fed a lotta us!" '_Most importantly me_' were probably the unspoken words at the end of that sentence.

She shrugged. "Well, sorry we weren't fast enough. We're only two people." Well, no, one and a half people, to be precise - but she was keeping that amusing thought to herself.

He just sighed, leaning further into the wall, his eyes slipping closed briefly. Awkwardly, Clementine fidgeted with her cleaver, flipping it over and inspecting its bloody blade absentmindedly.

"Why did you do it?"

The question was so quiet, she almost thought she'd imagined it; she had trouble comprehending that such a small sound came from Troy. _Troy_, who had yelled and barked around the camp like the lapdog he was. _Troy_, who had screamed his lungs off when the blade sliced through his flesh. _Troy_, who had complained the whole way to Parker's Run and even yelled at her for not being able to catch a swift raccoon.

"I was as good as dead," he continued, voice still uncharacteristically soft, "and yet you lopped my bitten arm off without any fuckin' hesitation. I was a weak link, and I should'a died 'cause of that. Least, that's what Bill would'a said. So... _why_?"

Eyes widened, she pondered the actual meaning of his words before choosing to answer. She had thought about this before, of course, constantly doubting whether or not she had done the right thing. He'd probably never thank her for the action, but it meant something to her to have saved a human being's life. Maybe it was just the harsh way the world was now that prompted her to choose a more righteous path.

It was what Lee would have done - she was sure of it, now. It was Lee's path, and also the one furthest from Carver's.

"You may have been weak, and Carver would have considered you someone to throw away." That much was true, and they both knew it. However, there was a difference between Carver's philosophy and what remained of humanity in them all. She spoke firmly with her head held high, repeating words she'd heard once before: "But that is _not_ how the world works now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Out on a Limb**

**Summary: **If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.

**Notes: **Hi everyone! Thanks so much for leaving nice reviews! Please continue to give me feedback if you can; it means the world to me! Also, I should mention that I know Troy doesn't have any canon redeemable traits in him – I usually navigate towards liking asshole characters in general, and it's even better when I can give them human traits when their canon stories do not. I plan to do that with Troy, of course, as I believe every Walking Dead Game character has a story to tell. Oh! And thanks to obsessed naruhina fangirl for the mention of Clementine's arm! I remembered it, but she was correct in saying it should be addressed at some point. I hope it's to everyone's liking!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Walking Dead Game.

* * *

Clementine let out a long sigh, propping herself up on the counter and sliding herself forward on her belly, attempting to squeeze through the small crevice to get into the locked office. The sparkling water inside the small room taunted her, just sitting there and waiting for her to grab it. But she realized with frustration that she wasn't quite as small as she'd once been; she couldn't fit in the narrow opening, and managed to even get stuck.

Wriggling around, she let out a quiet hiss, her limbs flailing and trying to pry her body one way or the other. It was no use; she'd have to ask for _his_ help to get out of there – and he'd better damn get her out, because the water would be helpful for everyone, including him. "Troy!" she yelled, grunting with effort and turning her head in his general direction. "Troy, I need help!"

"What? Jesus! Kid, you can't do _anythin_', can you?" His response was muffled, but she could detect his own irritation plainly in the words.

"I can do more than you," she muttered, rolling her eyes. He seemed to have forgotten who'd saved his ass more than once already (then again, this _was_ Troy). Raising her voice, she added, "Hurry!"

Ignoring his annoyed grumbles, she glanced around the back office while waiting for him; everything looked untouched, despite the state of the rest of the museum. The water tub was most likely a refill for a cooler or something like that – though it didn't matter what it had been used for, because it would be put to good use now. Clementine's mouth felt dry just staring at it; she hadn't had a drink for at least half a day now, and it just looked like heaven in a bottle.

In fact, a closer look revealed that there was _another_ bottle right beside it, fresh for the picking; she almost wept in relief.

A pull on her legs interrupted her bliss. Familiar grunts from outside the office clued her in on Troy's rough efforts to yank her out; he was being careless, and she wasn't sure if it was just because he was injured.

"Be careful!" she snapped, the pulls starting to hurt.

"I'm... I'm tryin'!" he yelled back, though she seriously doubted he was trying to be gentle. "You try doin' this with one arm and see how easy it fuckin' is!" After a few more yanks, she heard him yelp in pain, and she was let go.

"Troy!" she cried, her mind racing. Every second she was stuck here was another second she could be put into danger – and Troy was not helping! She needed to get out immediately, before any walkers appeared.

Oh God, what if he ran off and left her here to die? It would be just like him, too – after she'd just told him why she'd saved him!? That she believed that she needed to do _good_ instead of following Carver's example? But Troy was a part of Carver's community – put in an authority position, no less – so of course he had to disagree. The 'survival of the fittest' lessons were probably ground into his mind by that madman.

She shouldn't have even tried to get in like this; maybe she should've attempted to get into the room some other way. She should have thought it through and realized who she was with and not only his limits, but her own. She couldn't stay small forever, after all. Lee had told her that she was smarter than walkers, but she wasn't so sure anymore. It was too late now, anyway, too late to regret; she struggled harder, her yells to Troy becoming pleas. "Troy! Get me out!"

Her screams were gaining in volume, but before she could realize how much danger she was putting herself in, familiar snarls sounded nearby. _Oh no. _A sinking feeling pooled into her stomach, her heart speeding up as she whipped her head back and forth in fear, trying to find where the noise was coming from. It was obvious what it was – but where was it?

A walker crawled out from under the desk in the office, its hands already stretched forward as it clawed its way across the floor. It was chained to the radiator near the water coolers, cuff glistening around its rotten wrist. Clementine knew she wasn't safe, though – the metal of the handcuffs was rusted through and the creature's wrist was rotting off, both chipping away at each pull. She swallowed hard, eyes bugging wide as she writhed to get herself unstuck.

"Troy! Troy, there's a walker in here!" she shrieked, watching it grumble and claw for her. Flashbacks to Lee being chained in a similar fashion threatened to flood her mind, but she wouldn't let them. Survival was the most important thing now. "_**Troy**_!"

Panic started to crawl through her as the walker's wrist snapped off with a loud crack, and it stumbled forward, lifeless eyes fixated on her hungrily; she'd seen that look before, the look of a hunter that found prey. Stuck here, she was just a convenient meal for it.

No! She'd come too far to die here!

Time slowed down. There was a loud bang, the sound of wood snapping off metal hinges as the office door was forced open. The walker's face was a few feet away from her, rotten teeth already gnawing in preparation for her flesh; blurs of green and red flashed before her, and the creature sunk to the ground.

Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears, her hands trembling as she pushed herself up on the surface on the other side of the office below her, peering over the edge to get a better look.

The walker was sprawled out on the floor, its jaw still unhinged hungrily and macabre arms outstretched towards her. It was still as stone, rotten blood gushing from a glistening opening in its head that resembled a black tomato split open.

Was it... really dead?

Clementine pushed the initial shock away, her head lifting to see Troy standing over her, her cleaver in hand, both now decorated with the putrid guts of the dead walker. She hadn't realized that tears had pricked her eyes; wiping them away quickly, she stared up at the man, trying to slow her racing heart.

"Th... thanks," she murmured, suddenly feeling out of breath.

He didn't answer, merely using a hand to lift the office shade, pulling it up far enough (even with his lack of strength) so that she could wriggle forward and fall to the ground. As she hit the floor, she let out a quiet "oof!" and sat there for a few minutes to calm herself down.

She wondered what took him so long, but the answer was clear as she looked around the office; the door had been struck until it snapped off its hinges, probably needing more than a few kicks to get it open. Contrary to her fears, he didn't abandon her – whether that was his own choice or just a twisted way to keep her around to protect him, she didn't know (nor did she want to).

"Y'didn't get bit, did you?" he asked, slitted brown eyes focused on her. Immediately, she shook her head, showing her arms to him to prove the walker hadn't even touched her before he'd intervened.

"No, I'm okay," she assured. "But – but why did you help me?"

Troy quirked a brow, lips pursed in puzzlement. "Well, there was water in here, like y'said. Needed to get at that shit myself if you ended up dyin', anyway." After she flashed him a glare, he added, "'sides, I guess I didn't want to deal with the world's smallest lurker. It would'a just been pathetic to see."

Ugh. He just _had_ to insult her, didn't he? He couldn't say _one_ nice thing? She crossed her arms, pursing her lips. "But you could've just hit me in the head, too, if I turned. You didn't _have_ to help me," she pointed out bitterly.

Scoffing, the man replied, "What, y'didn't _want_ my help? Could'a fooled me, the way you were screamin' my name like you were bein' eaten alive."

Her eyes narrowed. Of course she wanted his help in that situation, but the truth was she just didn't think he'd do anything. In fact, she was almost expecting him to run away; maybe he was smarter than he appeared.

"C'mon," he continued, "we got our asses in here, so now we gotta take the water and leave. It ain't safe here." He scanned the small room, as if more walkers would spring out of and around the dead one at their feet.

Clementine nodded; she knew they had to move. The problem, however, lied in the size of the water cooler - she doubted either of them would be able to carry it. They could always wait for the others to come back, but the possibility of bandits nearby worried her. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she'd seen thieves destroy her group before, and didn't want that to happen again.

Before she could voice her concerns, Troy clutched onto one of the bottles, lifting it with a grunt to his good shoulder. "G-grab the other one," he muttered, teeth gnashed together. His expression was distorted with obvious pain, and the girl noticed that his severed limb was bleeding faster now. They'd have to get to a secluded area, and quick – and then she could take care of him.

But a thought suddenly struck her – the coat! "One second," she said, hurrying back to the exhibit remains and placing both the Confederate coat and her cleaver into her backpack, returning to him as quickly as she could. He merely glared at her, but said nothing.

Facing the remaining bottle, she took a deep breath. This would take a lot of strength – she was still pretty weak physically, and part of her still felt shaken up from that near-brush with death. "Clementine! C'mon, hurry!" Troy probably meant to sound like he was barking orders (like back at Howe's), but his words merely sounded pained and desperate. Without answering him, she crouched, placing both hands on the bottom of the cooler, groaning in effort as she lifted it off the ground. Her back hunched over as she turned around to face the man.

"S'almost as big as you," he commented humorlessly, turning around and beginning to walk out of the office. He stumbled a bit, nearly losing his footing a few times as they left the museum. They both agreed that they'd have to come back if they or any of the group wanted to dig around deeper for supplies, and that water was the most important thing right now, anyway.

Clementine felt the water weighing her down, and nearly fell a couple times herself, her fingers trying desperately to keep a firm grasp on the slippery surface. Both of them kept a slow but fixed pace, keeping their gazes focused ahead as they tried to forget their current struggles – Troy's pain and Clementine's depleting strength.

After traveling down the marked path a little more, the clearing for Parker's Run appeared before them; a giant map of the tourist attraction marked the area, as well as a giant statue of a soldier carrying another. Clementine noticed a tent set up nearby, and almost let out a long sigh of relief. "Look over there!" she indicated, nodding her head towards her discovery.

"Thank _Christ_," the man replied, his voice sounding far away. Carelessly, he threw the water onto the ground, his legs buckling and his knees hitting the dirt roughly. Clementine placed her water container next to his and approached him cautiously, watching as he hunched over himself, his hand planted firmly on the ground for support.

"Do you think you can crawl into the tent?" she asked, swinging her backpack off into her arms. He just scoffed and muttered that of _course_ he could, and scrambled forward on his hand and knees into the tent.

They were lucky - it was empty. Not the best place to be, but a good enough spot to wait for the others, anyway. She seated herself a bit ways off from the entrance, just in the case that walkers might get the idea to pop in (she doubted it, though).

Her companion seated himself across from her, once more looking pale and weak; he'd most likely pushed himself too far, exhausting his injured body. She wasn't an expert on this, though; it would have been so much better for everyone in this situation (and in general) if Carlos was still alive. Though, Clementine didn't want to think he was just a doctor and was therefore useful to them. Sarah mourned his lost life, so she felt the rest of the group should, too.

They were like family now, after all.

Sadly, nowadays there was barely time to grieve over lost friends and family. Sighing, Clementine decided to think about it later, and trained her eyes over her companion, watching him lean back against the material and close his eyes for a few moments, quiet pants escaping his lips.

"Are you going to be okay?" she whispered, holding her breath in case he wouldn't respond and the worst happened.

Thankfully, though, he opened his eyes, nodding. "Y... yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It just... it fuckin' _hurts_." Clenching his teeth and letting out a pained hiss, he adjusted his sitting position to meet her gaze better.

"But at least you're alive," she pointed out, not even bothering to admit that she was also alive now because of him. She was grateful, of course, but she still had her pride. Plus, it was _Troy –_ and she still didn't like him.

He nodded again, breathing a deep sigh. "No shit, Clementine..." He examined his stump arm, his heavy breaths the only sound in that quiet tent. Clementine couldn't even begin to wonder what he was thinking, but if it were her, she'd be growing a bit concerned on how she was going to live with only three out of the four limbs she'd been born with.

After unzipping her backpack and taking out the bandages and things she'd grabbed from the drugstore. She also grabbed her cleaver and kept it near her - just in case of an emergency. Her eyes carefully tracked from the man's pained face to his injury, and then back down to her tools. She was no expert on first aid, but she'd have to try – it was getting critical.

She hesitated, unsure where to even start. What did she do for her arm? That cabin and shed scenario seemed like it had happened forever ago, but it had only been about a week. She'd snuck into the cabin for antiseptic, bandages, and a sewing needle – so she had to clean, bandage, and stitch – oh God if she had to _stitch his severed limb shut_...

No, she decided against that; she was not squeamish in the least, but it was more than she owed him – more than he _deserved_ right now. Plus, she really wasn't sure if she could stitch such a huge wound shut properly, and might end up doing more damage than aid, anyway. She'd clean and bandage it, as well as apply a new tourniquet. That was more than enough right now, and he should be thankful he was getting that much.

What first? It would help if she could get the big camouflage obstruction out of the way. "Troy, can you, um... take off your jacket?" she asked, crawling over towards him with a few rolls of bandages and the quarter-empty bottle of antiseptic. She absolutely did not want to do this, but she had to remind herself that Lee would have. Lee would be happy with her for this; he'd be _proud_ that she was doing such a tough thing for someone so difficult and unpleasant.

The man flashed her a glare, but shook his head. "Don't think I can," he replied, and she believed him.

Pursing her lips, she decided that that they had to remove the jacket. Holding onto his sleeve, she pulled at it so his good arm was released first. He hissed in pain at her jerking movements, shying away from the touch, but she pursued further.

"We have to," she murmured, a bit frustrated at his efforts to rebel against her. Eventually, she got him to worm his way out of the jacket by his head, and carefully pulled it over his stump arm (but not without a few grunts and whines of pain, of course).

Good thing he didn't lash out – though he probably knew what would've happened if he did.

His gray t-shirt underneath was soaked with blood from his right shoulder down, but at least the wound could breathe a little better. Now all she had to do was remove the rope and work with the chopped area itself.

She pointed to the tourniquet keeping the blood flow to a minimum, ordering him to remove it, because she sure as hell wasn't doing it herself.

"Are you kiddin' me?" he asked, frowning. "That'll just make it worse, you little _idiot_. Remove it and it'll start bleedin' all over. Don't you know what you're doing?"

"I do. Take the rope off," she pressed, eyes narrowing.

"Over my dead fuckin' body!"

The idiot obviously didn't understand how possible that could be if that was left untouched, but was it Clementine's responsibility? Did she really have to take care of Troy? Sure, she wanted to do the right thing, but the man didn't even _want_ her help.

"What do you think we _should_ do, then? Tell me _your_ plan," she snapped, getting irritated with his stubborn behavior. How old was he?

Glancing down at the wound, and then to the items in her hands, Troy replied, "What you got there ought'a work. Spray and bandage. Christ, I should've known better than to trust a kid to help me out. You obviously don't know the first thing about takin' care of wounds."

Clementine's teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed into slits; she could feel herself getting frustrated with him. He didn't know what he was talking about, for one, and didn't think she was capable of doing _anything_, did he?

"We can't do that without _removing the rope_, Troy," she insisted.

Hesitation flashed in his eyes for a moment before he broke from her gaze, a frustrated hiss passing through his lips. "Keepin' it on ain't doin' anythin' wrong."

"If the rope rubs into the wound, it'll hurt a _lot_ more," Clementine hissed lowly. "And it's in the way. I'll clean up the rope and wrap it back around until we find another one or a belt or something."

Troy's nostrils flared and he scooted back from her a bit, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, maybe I don't trust some little _kid_ to not fuckin' wait too long and get me killed when my arm's gushin' blood! Can y'blame me!?"

Realization dawned on her. So, he was _scared_. That made more sense, really; she knew he was on the dumber side, but didn't think he'd refuse so profusely to help himself. He was afraid she'd mess up or something and get him killed.

Well, it didn't change the fact that he was being a _baby_ about the whole thing. And she'd have to prove it to him. She sat back on her legs in a kneeling position, unzipping her jacket and pulling it off with a quiet grunt of effort.

"What are you doin'-"

She merely raised her arm, showing him the bandages still wrapped around her arm. "You see this?" she asked.

"Yeah...?" He quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly in a way that reminded her of Sam.

Deciding that she'd need to change her own bandages, anyway, she peeled the sticky fabric, noticing the sloppy stitchings still in place. Carlos had said she'd done a good enough job with sewing it up, and more or less cleaned it more and bandaged it when he took care of her. She had been a bit relieved that her painful endeavor hadn't been for nothing.

"What the – you get bit!?" The one-armed man edged himself away from her even further, his back pressed against the tent's wall.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "No. Well, a dog bit me, actually – about a week ago. When I met Luke's group, they didn't believe me, so they locked me in the shed for the night by myself."

"Lot more than Bill would'a done," Troy muttered. "He'd'a probably just cut off your arm and left you in the yard all night to see if you turned anyway."

Thoughtfully, she asked, "Was that what he did with Reggie?"

"That's right, kiddo," Troy replied with a nod.

She decided she didn't like him calling her that, but didn't press it. Instead, she practically shoved her arm in his face, pointing at the stitches. "You see these?"

He moved his head away from her, averting his gaze. "God – get your gross arm outta my face, Clementine! C'mon, I don't wanna see that shit!"

She didn't move. "Too bad. Do you see the stitches?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I see 'em! What about 'em!?"

Pulling back once she knew he got a look, she snapped, "I had to sew this all up _myself –_ with nothing but a sip of apple juice for comfort. I did it, digging the _needle_ into my _open wound_ all by myself in a shed." She traced her finger lightly across the stitches; they reminded her of little black spiders crawling around her arm. After gazing at them thoughtfully, she glared back at Troy. "If I can do that, you can get over yourself and take that rope off so I can clean the wound. You need to quit being a baby and let me _help you_ or you'll _die_."

And whether she liked him or not, Clementine didn't really want Troy to die. She'd seen enough death, yes, but she couldn't ever get _used_ to it being constantly around her. She wouldn't ever become numb to it, and no matter what, death was a tragic thing. Even if it was the cannibals who killed Mark, or the strange man who kidnapped her. Even if it was Troy. Even _Carver_.

The man's face hardened, lips pursed and eyes focused, and for a minute Clementine thought he'd refuse again. But he finally nodded, murmuring something she didn't catch under her breath and returned to his original position.

Proud of herself, the girl sat near his severed limb, waiting for him to remove the rope so she could use his removed jacket to stop the blood flow. The man's breathing grew heavy, his eyes focused on the limb, fingers trembling inches away from the rope.

"Troy, c'mon!" she urged, losing patience.

"Alright, just – just hold on..." He hesitated, eyes screwing shut as he took a long, deep breath and pulled the rope off.

Immediately, he howled in agony, horrified at the blood gushing like a river from the remainder of his arm. Whimpering, he yelled, "It hurts! It- _stop_ _it_! Stop the blood! So much _fuckin' blood_...!"

She moved quickly, pressing the jacket against the amputated area tightly. Making sure to apply as much pressure as she could, she grabbed the antiseptic and readied it. She fought the urge to soothe his cries; he wasn't a child, and she wasn't his mother, so there was no need (nor did she think he deserved it).

Still, she wasn't going to let him alert all walkers within ten miles of their location. "Calm down. I know it hurts, but you need to be quiet so we don't attract walkers."

The words connected with him, miraculously; he quieted down as best he could, eyes still closed tightly.

"It's going to hurt worse for a bit," she warned, not giving him time to react before she removed the jacket and sprayed the wound with as much antiseptic as she could get on there.

With a horrible hissing sound, the wound bubbled white, showing that the area was being cleaned by the medicine. But Troy wasn't even looking at it; he looked like he was trying not to pass out, his eyes glazed over in pain. His teeth sunk down on the back of one of his fingers, tiny streaks of blood falling from how hard he was biting.

Grabbing his hand and prying it out of his teeth's grip, she placed the jacket in his palm, instructing him to place it on the injured area while she prepared the bandages. With shaking and bloody fingers, he managed to keep the fabric in place (at least, for now).

She turned back to her supplies, unrolling a few of the bandages. None could be wasted, so she had to take out just the right amount to wrap around Troy's limb a few times. She glanced at the man, gasping in pain and trying not to go into shock, and placed one of the bandages' ends onto the area.

"You can let go," she told him, and he obeyed. Immediately, she began to wrap the wound, noting each flinch he made as she did so. Once, twice, thrice... at the fourth or fifth wrap-around, she ran out of bandage, and tied a few tight knots to secure it.

Breathing in relief, she sank back to her knees. "It's wrapped."

His head was hung low again, looking positively drained from that, but he wasn't complaining. He raised his gaze slightly, eyes looking through her. "This is just sweet irony," he groaned, humorlessly snickering.

"What do you mean?" she asked, working on disinfecting the rope as he spoke.

"After Mike cut off Reggie's arm, I was supposed to take care of all the first aid shit," he explained, leaning back and lifting his head to stare at the ceiling of the tent. "Know what I said? 'I ain't coddlin' the asshole' and left him to take care of it on his own. Didn't even care. It probably felt like this, or worse." She raised her eyebrows thoughtfully; perhaps there was some odd justice in her decision to lob Troy's arm off.

As she sprayed the rope up and down with antiseptic, making sure it didn't touch the ground (as the last thing she wanted was dirt to get in it), she commented, "Reggie was so sure he was going to be back inside if he behaved. Was that true?" She couldn't see Carver being that forgiving of a man.

Not surprisingly, Troy shook his head, letting out another dry laugh. "N... nah," he muttered, "Bill was never gonna let him in. Reggie was weak. Not 'cause'a his arm, I think, just... he didn't have what it took."

"And what did it take?" Clementine asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hitting children? Shooting anyone on sight? Asking 'how high?' when Carver asked you to jump?"

If so, Troy had what it took completely – not that that was a good thing.

"No, just... conviction. The ability to make sacrifices."

"_Reggie_ was a sacrifice," Clementine shot back, still bitter about the whole thing. "Because Carver thought of him as an object instead of a person. But Carver's way of thinking was _wrong_."

Troy narrowed his eyes. "Watch your mouth, girlie," he snarled, "'til you assholes decided to get up and run, things were goin' just _fine_."

"For you."

"'Cause I _earned_ my place!"

"And look where you are now." With a sigh, Clementine prepared the rope by his bandaged stump. This probably wasn't the best idea, but she had no other means of a tourniquet.

Biting back his pain, Troy just growled, "Look, I'm not sayin' it was perfect, but Bill had a good idea in mind. The strong survive. Killin' one weak link would'a saved the rest."

Clementine's gaze darkened, light brown eyes glittering with anger. "Do you know how Carver died?"

"What-"

She didn't give him a chance to reply, tightening the rope's grip on his wound. "Kenny beat him to death with a crowbar after shooting both his knees. I watched him. Carver died alone, looking up at people who absolutely _despised_ him."

Troy's expression softened. "What does this have to-"

"If you continue to be like him, that'll happen to you." And she really didn't even care. Her voice grew colder as she finished up the rope's knots, standing up and looking down on him. In a way, it was a good indicator of who was the more dominant one in this situation – who called the shots. Clementine wouldn't put up with his bossiness any longer.

"You'll die alone," she warned, "with everyone you left behind being happy that you did."

She could see the realization dawn on his face, some surprise and unknown emotions mixed in, but before either of them could say another word, a hurried voice called from outside.

"Hey, Clementine? You out here?" Poking her head out of the tent, she found Rebecca and Sarita outside. They both seemed okay enough, simply out of breath, but Clementine noticed instantly the distinct lack of someone that she'd left them with.

"What's wrong?" she asked, that familiar sinking feeling pooling into her stomach.

Sarita bit her lip, her eyes shimmering with worry. "It's Sarah."


End file.
